


Something Rotten

by Zaqwer



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 00:57:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11369232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaqwer/pseuds/Zaqwer
Summary: With the death of the old King, his brother Claudaeys takes the Iron Throne, facing threats on all sides.  Young Hamlet is determined to discover the truth of his father's death, but an old enemy is gathering strength in the North.  As supernatural elements haunt the Red Keep, can the royal family survive the coming storm?A Game of Thrones/Hamlet crossover.





	Something Rotten

Ser Barnard paced along the battlements of Maegor’s Holdfast, the pre-dawn hours silent but for the pounding of the waves against the cliffs of King’s Landing.  The walk was illuminated only by the starlight, itself partially obscured by the ragged clouds that raced along the sky.  A chill breeze was blowing off the ocean, unusually cold for the late summer night.  Despite the recent heat in the city, Barnard couldn’t suppress a shiver as he felt the cool air wash over him.  His white cloak tugged at him, flapping in a sudden gust of salty air.  Guard duty, especially solitary night watches such as these, was both tedious and terrifying; there was no true danger present here in the heart of King’s Landing, but the eyes would play tricks on the mind, transforming the deep shadows of the keep into looming beasts and frightening figures.

Barnard continued his patrol across the drawbridge to the outer parts of the Red Keep, trying and failing to keep his mind off of the iron spikes that lay at the bottom of the moat, thirty feet below him.  If the bridge were to collapse, or he to wander off the edge in the dark… well, that did not bear thinking about.  Thankfully, he crossed the gap safely, as he had many times before.  The knight had served the royal family for many years now, and had spent many a guard duty walking these paces. 

And yet, this night was different.  Barnard couldn’t shake the feeling that something, or someone was afoot when they shouldn’t.  He had dismissed the feel as nonsense, mere superstition, yet it tugged at him just beyond his senses.  Perhaps it was the bells.  They had rung for a day and a night mourning the death of the good King Hamlet, and their silence now felt a shade ominous.  Of course, such thoughts were ridiculous, there had been no sense of dread before the bells had tolled, there should be none now.  The death of the old King had been tragic to be sure, but there was hardly any more threat to the castle now. 

Yet, Barnard still felt a… something just out of sight, following and watching him.  The knight glanced nervously over his shoulder far more often than was necessary as he passed by the entrance to the White Sword Tower, where his brothers not on duty slept.  The eerie sensation only seemed to grow stronger, making the hairs on the back of neck prickle.  It sounded almost as if there were a second set of footsteps trailing him, echoing just a split second behind his own.

The Kingsguard whirled around, only to find the battlements empty.  “Who goes there? Show yourself!” he shouted into the silent darkness.  Nothing answered; the footfalls had ceased.  Barnard stood there a moment, hand still upon the hilt of his sword.  Finally seeing no indication that anyone would step out of the night, he marched back the way he had come, determined to find what had spooked him so.   To his chagrin, the ramparts were just as he had left them, with no sign of an intruder.  Feeling slightly foolish, he resumed his walk.

But as soon as he had done so, the footsteps returned, this time sounding slightly closer behind him.  _They must be echoes off the stones, nothing to be alarmed at,_ Barnard told himself, despite knowing full well that he had never heard any echoes of the sort in all his years walking the castle before tonight.  Several more times he turned back, both hoping and dreading to see whatever it was that shadowed him, but there was naught but the wind each time he looked. 

The steps grew closer still until they seemed almost to be walking beside him.  A dark shadow seemed to stalk at his right hand, but the knight desperately ignored it, telling himself that he was imagining things.  But almost as soon as it had come, the shadowy form had passed, leaving Barnard feeling strangely alone in the dark.  Shaking off the absurd notion, he continued his rounds and turned a corner around the Tower of the Hand. 

A figure unmistakably stood in the middle of the battlements, directly in Barnard’s path.  The black shape seemed to be darker than the night around it, as if it sucked the light from its surroundings.  Yet Barnard was able to discern its outlines, black plate and a winged, three-headed helm.  The armor was unmistakable, a cold knot of fear settling in Barnard’s stomach as the helmet turned to face him.  The face shone bright through the night, pale hair glowing silver and the purple eyes smoldered like embers of a dying fire.  In its sights, Barnard felt set alight by the violet blaze.  Unthinking, he fell to a knee at the feet of the ghostly figure.  There could be no doubt, Old King Hamlet stalked the Red Keep.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, thank you for joining me on this strange journey. Any feedback and comments is welcome!


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